


My Day by Alec Trevelyan

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, Q Has a Cat, he also has a double oh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich
Summary: The life of a double oh Agent is a dangerous and exciting one, but there are days where the only things on his schedule are domestic chores





	My Day by Alec Trevelyan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [Dassandre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/gifts).



> For the two people who remind me life is never boring.
> 
> With heaps of that mushy stuff.

It wasn’t a bad day, all things considered, but I am glad to make it home to the flat before Q. Toeing off my shoes and leaving them in the hall for Q to trip over later - it’s the annoying little habits that show I care - I head straight for the kitchen and the bowl of last night’s curry that waits for me in the microwave. 3 minutes on high. Just enough time to look around the flat for any post-it’s left by Q instructing me to remember all the things I’ve forgotten. 

Dishwasher!!!!

Driving licence??

Amelie is a snooty bitch and rejected the trash food you bought. Give her some curry. 

There’s a squiggle on the bottom of the last that might be a half-hearted kiss. Though, knowing Q, he was just testing out the biro to make sure it worked. I grin anyway. Even if it’s never written down, I know it’s there.

Chicken Ding is served up, with a small bowl for the feline princess. I put it on the table next to mine, just so I feel like I have a dinner companion. If Q did the same I’d gripe about him spoiling the little furry bitch. Lay on something about hygiene. He’d roll his eyes and tell me it’s good for my immune system to have her shitty paws all over the dining table. 

After dinner I unload the dishwasher and cram far more into it than should be reasonably used by a couple. Twice I have to shoo the damn cat away from licking curry sauce from the cutlery. She stalks off, tail held high, in a snit, and I don’t see her for the rest of the evening.

I have a speed-driving assessment tomorrow, so the next hour is spent searching for my driving licence. The genuine one, in my name. Not the half dozen cover IDs stashed in drawers instead of the safe where Q insists they should be. Anyone would think he was the organised one around here...

Finally, time to myself. 

I drop into my favourite easy chair and reach for the project I’ve been working on. Colleagues at Six would never dream that my distraction of choice involves counting repeats under my breath. Thick fingers working chains, loops and yarn-overs into delicate fabrics. This evening it’s a baby blanket for one of Q’s minions. She looks ready to pop, but I learned today that voicing that was not the thing to do. No one could ever say I’m tactful, but maybe the gift will be a suitable apology... even if she never knows it was crafted by me.


End file.
